The Hand That Feeds
by Sorrow Reminisce
Summary: What happened to Loki after he dropped from the Bifrost? What did Thanos do, to cause such drastic change? This question is explored through a series of flashbacks during Loki's imprisonment in Asgard, as Frigga tries to help her son find his way out of the darkness. ( Torture at the hands of Thanos in upcoming chapters. Set between Thor and Avengers, and post-Avengers)
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This story was inspired in part by my desire to explore where Loki ended up after falling from the Bifrost, and in part from the following Tom Hiddleston quote (on whether Loki has hit rock bottom in TDW): "He's buried deep in the darkest recesses of Asgard in a dungeon, unthought of, unseen and forgotten. And when you're written out of life like that, when you're written out of history, and your family have no interest in who you are, people who used to be your friends.. you've got a lot of time to think. So I'd say...if he's not there yet, he's on his way down."

Big chunks of italic font is annoying, but unfortunately that's the method I've used to show flashback scenes. It's not all this way! Some of this story will reference the TDW prelude comics and TDW trailer. There will be scenes where Loki flashes back to torture at the hands of Thanos, though I'm not yet sure how graphic it will be. Either way, I will apply warnings when that time comes.

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**The Hand That Feeds**

**- Chapter 1 -**

_Technicolor energy poured brilliant and churning over the broken edge of the Bifrost, rushing like an angry river into a swirling vortex far below. A beacon in the star-studded darkness. The vastness of the universe tugged at Loki's feet as he dangled over the infinite abyss, his once-brother's mercy and their combined grasp upon Gunthr all that kept him from from falling._

_Terror clutched at Loki's chest at the thought of tumbling into that chaotic whirlpool of time and space, and his grip on the cool metal staff tightened. With a desperate glance upwards, his eyes met the straining face of Thor before settling with shock on his once-father - awoken too soon from the Odinsleep._

_The Allfather towered over them; his grasp upon Thor's leg the anchor that kept both sons from falling. Loki stared wildly, his expression pleading and disarmingly genuine. "I could have done it Father! I could have done it! For you! For all of us!"_

_The words tore ragged from Loki's throat as he searched his father's face for approval - or absolution - but the steady gaze that met his eyes was one only of grave sadness, and he recoiled in bitter despair at the sight of a father who already mourned a son lost._

_"No Loki."_

_Those two damning words fell from Odin's lips like lead ballasts and Loki felt the weight of all he had wrought crush upon him, as the horror of his betrayal reflected in the Allfather's world-weary gaze._

_He had made a grievous error, and the man who'd raised him as a son now looked to him as a stranger._

_A monster._

_In that moment, Loki understood with piercing clarity that everything had changed. Everything he thought to hold dear was now taken from him. He was neither of Asgard nor of Jotunheim. He had destroyed his relationship with those who had once been family, slain his real father... He had nothing._

_He was _nothing_._

_The smooth metal of Gunthr was a lifeline beneath his clenched fingers, but it belonged to him no more - it never had._

_And so, he let it go._

_The swirling energy of the Bifrost drew him in as he fell away from the bridge, but it was Thor's open mouthed scream that followed him down. He clung then, to the cold comfort of his brother's foolish stubborn love._

_He hadn't lost everything dear to him after all._

_The anguished echo of Thor's cry chased him into the kaleidoscopic void._

_But it couldn't bring him back._

x . x . x . x . x . x . x . x . x . x .x . x . x . x . x . x

_Long-lived as they may be, even Jotnur half-breeds have need of air to breathe. Soon after plummeting into the wormhole, Loki fell into unconsciousness as the air was ripped from his lungs. He could have fallen for eternity - until deep space caused his body to freeze and shatter - if it weren't for the space rock he collided into at such force it smashed his immortal self back into awareness. Of a sorts._

_Loki awoke with a wretched gasp torn from lungs that could draw no breath. In a fluster of panic he clutched at his throat; frenzy taking over as chest clenched hard around hammering heart, and each sucking breath only suffocated him further. His lungs felt squeezed tight and burning. There was no air, no matter how deep he tried to breathe. Nothing but a terrible pressure on his chest which grew and grew with each sour chalky mouthful of nothingness that he dragged into his lungs._

_Surrounded by darkness, he had no idea if he was alive or in Hel, nor sense at that point to care either way, but as his oxygen-starved brain bordered hysteria and threatened darkness, instinct drove him to cast an old familiar spell._

_Reaching into the emptiness before him, Loki's hands twisted and pulled to perform a mid-air weave. It was no easy spell to work - no simple trick of illusion - but his hands fell into the rhythm of the weave as he built an invisible casement around his body. With lungs squeezed close to shattering, he bound his spell together with a flick of his wrists. It was done._

_The air he drew in was unnatural - wrought by magic - but it filled his lungs nonetheless and he almost cried with joy as the crushing pain eased within his chest._

_Then before the ache of his lungs could fully recede, the ground beneath his feet began to shift as great fissures opened up around him._

_Limbs forced to take action, Loki clawed for purchase upon the shifting metal and ice, stumbling upon the heaving swell beneath him. The surface broke in great chunks just as fast as he could throw himself forward, tilting and rolling until he began to slide. Faster and faster, his body smashed and ricocheted against jagged rocks torn free from their age-old lodgings. Until finally the ground fell away entirely, and he was once again tumbling into a void._

x . x .x . x . x . x . x . x [END FLASHBACK] x . x .x . x . x . x . x . x

"Loki, please, speak to me." Frigga's voice was soft and fringed with sorrow. "Won't you at least look at me?"

Without response, Loki remained in his position. Cross-legged upon the floor of his brightly lit cell with his back against a wall. Hands clasped and resting lightly upon his ankles. Eyes fixed on a space mid-way to the floor. An occasional blink. The regular shallow inhalation of breath. No more than that.

Never more than that.

Gone was the man who had entered this prison cell with the proud bearing of a Prince; refusing to be cowered. Gone was the man who had cast scornful eyes over his jailers - those he had once called family - as he'd stood supercilious and and strong despite his wounds and his reason for being there.

Time and isolation had darkened the blight upon his soul and drawn him inwards. His memories he would not share, even to ease the burden of bearing them.

The Queen's heart ached to see her son so lost within himself - so closed up, even to her. She had borne witness to his simmering rage when Thor returned him to Asgard, bound and gagged. She'd felt his humiliation as if it were her own, even as she knew his actions warranted such harsh arrest.

Still, he was her son, and so she had thrown her arms around him in the hope a mother's love might lend strength to his fractured soul. And though he'd dropped his head against her shoulder and released a shuddering breath, his eyes were hard and haughty as he raised them to her own; glinting with a coldness that chilled her to the core.

Odin had entered the chamber then, demanding her absence. But Frigga remained in the shadows, to be sure her son's neck remained clear of the gallows. With words like stinging barbs, Loki had taunted the Allfather, and as her heart cried out for her foolish boy to quell his lying tongue, she knew then, the truth behind his words.

He was asking the Allfather for the release he had not been granted when he'd plunged from the Bifrost.

He was asking him to finish what he had not been able to do himself.

But Odin had dealt a punishment that spared their son of death and yet, in Loki's tormented eyes, was by far a crueller fate. And though Frigga had wept for her son, she had not appealed for clemency.

She had seen that coldness in Loki's eyes; she had felt the dark chill of his blackened soul and she knew - she knew - he would never again be the boy he once was. This deadly, vicious man was a part of him now. All she could hope for was time to heal the wounds Thanos had inflicted upon his soul. And then maybe, maybe…

Returning her thoughts to the present, Frigga raised her palm towards the invisible force of energy which permitted no exit or entrance by any except those whose very blood had gone into its creation. A latticework of golden charms hummed into being at her proximity and she felt the magic within her rise up in recognition and sing within her veins.

"I will not give up on you Loki. I cannot believe you are lost to me - to us."

Still, Loki did not respond, and reluctantly she withdrew her hand, knowing the signature of her magic upon this shield would only alert Odin to her presence in this place.

She was no weak woman to be quelled before the might of a King, but she knew better than to try her husband on some subjects - not when the Odinsleep had done so little to return him to his vitality.

Yes, Loki was one such subject best left unspoken. For now.

So Frigga kept her sojourns hidden from her husband - for the sake of his failing health. She knew how to cloak herself from the all-seeing eyes of Heimdall just as skillfully as her sorcerer son. And although she was by nature a soft-spoken gentle woman, she also knew how to strike the fear of something worse than death into the hearts of the prison guards. The wroth of Odin himself was worth risking for the guards, to escape the fate she promised if they dare tell of her visits.

"Do you remember the time you fought with your brother over an orphaned fawn, while on a hunting party with your father?"

Frigga chose her words carefully, wanting not so much to share a moral-driven tale of sibling rivalry and unconditional love, but to assess Loki's reactions to her references of kinship.

As she expected, Loki gave no response. Closing off a sigh, Frigga continued, knowing that now she had begun to weave the tale, they would see it through to the end. Whether Loki wished it or not.

"Do you remember that argument? How your brother wanted to bring home its skin, while you pleaded with your father to spare the wee thing, and allow you bring it home for a nanny goat to raise alongside its own?"

Fresh affection rose up within Frigga at the memory of how ready her youngest son had been to nurture the same creatures Thor would prefer to see mounted on a wall. Though in hindsight, she couldn't help but wonder if Loki's motives were borne out of concern for the animals, or desire to thwart his brother's triumphs.

"Then your father tried to tell you the only nanny goat with milk to spare was the bad tempered Herdís and she was just as likely to eat the fawn than allow it to suckle."

Frigga laughed then, and the sound was so ill-matched with the surroundings yet so filled with warmth, even the guard who stood at the prison entrance tilted his head towards her and broke rank with a smile. But the Queen only had eyes for her son, who seemed to be sitting stiller than ever, if such a thing were possible.

"Of course, you would have milked the goat yourself, and butted it with your own head if it dared complain."

Frigga paused in her story and reached towards the barrier once more. Loki's demeanor had changed. An alertness had crept over his face. It was subtle, so subtle, but she'd studied his carefully-schooled expression enough times in recent weeks to gauge the slightest change.

"But while you and Odin argued, your brother took matters into his own hands. A long day of hunting with so little reward had left Thor with thought only for his stomach, and so he -"

"My Queen?"

Frigga pursed her lips. She'd heard the footfalls but chosen to ignore them, hoping the palace guard would have the courtesy to allow her story to finish before announcing Odin's displeasure.

"The Allfather requests your presence."

The Queen raised a delicately-shaped eyebrow. "Oh, does he now?"

Fixed expression faltering beneath stern stare, the guard fumbled, suddenly glad he wasn't the Allfather.

With a small smile and shake of her head, Frigga returned her attention Loki, starting in surprise to see he'd turned his gaze upon her, a faint frown breaking through the smooth veneer of apathy.

They locked eyes, neither moving until finally Frigga could take the silence no longer. Slowly she stood to her feet, knowing the story would have to continue another day after all.

"At least you don't look at me with hate." Her voice dropped to a bare whisper. "That I could not bear."

Loki lowered his gaze then, but not before his frown smoothed out, to be replaced by something that was at once worse and better than the blank wall of indifference she long hoped to bring down, brick by brick.

He had always struggled to hide his deepest thoughts from her, and she'd known that if any trace of the son she had known resided in him still, it could only be a matter of time before he let something slip.

Later she would wonder if it was a good or bad thing, that when Loki's impenetrable guise finally dropped, the visage that replaced it was one of raw and unrelenting despair.

x . x .x . x . x . x . x . x [FLASHBACK] x . x .x . x . x . x . x . x

_As Loki stood manacled and humiliated in await of Odin's judgement, Frigga kept vigil beside him, and rested her hand against his smooth cheek in wonderment of how a son so lost could returned._

_"Be strong." She softly breathed, as she bound all the love and strength of her own heart into those two whispered words._

_But as a footstep fell behind her and Loki's gaze hardened in sight of the man who'd raised him as his own, she realised then that although her youngest and most beloved of sons stood before her, he was yet to find his way home._


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **Thank you to the lovely people who have left feedback, your thoughts are appreciated!

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**The Hand That Feeds**

**- Chapter 2 -**

Odin stood upon a wide sweeping balcony overlooking his city, unmindful of how the shining spires gleamed and glittered in the light. The Allfather's mind was far beyond Asgard. Instead he searched the multicolour network of stars and wondered at the void of darkness far beyond.

It had become a ritual, evening after evening, since their youngest son had fallen into Yggdrasil. And although Loki had returned, Odin continued his ritual still. Searching now for reasons as to why. But the night sky gave no answer in return.

Treading softly, Frigga watched her husband as he stood with his back to her, unaware of her scrutiny. The Dark Power he'd channelled to deliver Thor to Midgard had weakened him greatly - though he would never dishonor himself by admitting it. Strong of mind, he ruled Asgard still, but the Odinforce was fast depleting, and with the realms now in a constant state of war since the Bifrost's destruction, there was no time for replenishment.

For so long, the Allfather had carried the weight of the worlds upon his mighty shoulders, but that might was waning, and the worries of the worlds were only growing heavier. Staving off the Odinsleep had taken its toll and would continue to do so.

More often than not these days, Frigga would find Odin here upon this balcony, his mind far away on the distant stars and his shoulders stooped as if the world's weight had grown too much to bear. It was a weakness that had begun to manifest more often as of late, though never when he thought others were watching.

As that thought passed Frigga's mind, she noticed her husband straighten, and his voice carried to her across the high gilded ceilings of the great empty chamber she stood within.

"How does he fare?"

Smiling to see that his senses were still strong even if his body was not, Frigga glided elegantly across the polished marble floors and came to a halt at Odin's side. She touched her hand lightly upon his elbow, a reserved yet intimate gesture which caused him to turn away from the stars at last and greet her with the ghost of a smile.

"He is holding himself together." The answer was, of course, a small untruth, but as dearly as Frigga loved her husband, she knew better than to give away too much without first discerning the Allfather's reason for asking. Especially when Loki was in question.

"Is that the truth?" Odin met her eyes with the all-seeing stare of a man who knew a ruse when one stood before him. "Or are you trying to spare me from my own guilt and shame?"

"Such burdens are not yours to carry, husband." Frigga's tone was kind. "What has become of Loki is not of your doing."

Odin opened his mouth to protest, but his wife laid a finger across his lips to silence him. "He has suffered greatly, yes. But not at your hands. You did your best, as father and as king. You always have. What afflicts him now is not entirely of your making. You know this as well as I."

"Not _entirely_?" Odin's raised an eyebrow, to which Frigga only pursed her lips and refused to answer.

Belatedly, Odin realised it was just as well. His swift imprisonment of Loki had been argued by his wife with all the passion and vigor of a woman stripped of her motherhood. Despite Frigga's fiery opposal, Odin had refused to budge, and even Thor had shaken his head in admonishment at his brother's actions.

Not completely without love, Odin had given some leeway - allowing Loki a fine prison chamber worthy of banished royalty, and turning a blind eye to Frigga's visits. And although in time Frigga had ceased berating him for giving up on the foster son he'd renounced, he knew she still doubted whether his decisions were always in sight of the bigger picture.

Folding a large warm hand around Frigga's own, Odin shifted his head so that his cheek was cupped in her palm and breathed deeply for a few moments, allowing her comfort to settle upon his shoulders like a mantle.

Finally he drew away, shifting the topic from that of self-reproach. "I know I have been unwilling to hear about…" Odin faltered, struggling to push through his reluctance, knowing Frigga would weigh her trust carefully on his words. "Our son."

A flicker of a smile touched Odin's lips then, as if so much burden had rested in those two words, and the speaking of them finally lessened their weight. He closed his eyes for a moment, searching inwardly, before continuing. "I have not dealt easily with Loki's betrayal."

Odin held up a silencing finger as Frigga opened her mouth, knowing she was going to protest on the subjectivity of betrayal. "But that is a discussion for another day."

"As are my blatant disregard for your rules?" Frigga asked with a teasing smile and a twinkle in her eye that reminded Odin for one painstaking moment of their dark son.

Odin's lips quirked in response. Frigga followed her own rules. Regardless of what he as King might decree. It was another reason why he loved her. And why so often he depended on her interventions to nudge the bigger picture into place.

Taking both of her hands in his, Odin faced his wife and allowed his vulnerability to unravel before her eyes. "I need to know with honesty - as a father, not a king - how is our son faring?"

Frigga let out a slow exhalation of breath then, unsure of where to begin. Loki had ever been a complex boy, and locking him in a cell with little more than his own thoughts and memories to amuse him, had caused him to become more complicated than ever. Some days worse than others. Some days better.

Should she tell him first of the withdrawn Loki who frightened her with his strange faraway eyes and unfathomable silences?

The twisted, hateful Loki who paced his cell like a crazed animal while ranting of vengeance?

The contrite Loki who beseeched her with wistful eyes, and begged forgiveness?

Or should she ease him in gently with the amicable Loki who listened attentively to the words of wisdom she tried to impart, and made her laugh with his clever wit (and later cry to wonder which Loki she'd encounter the next time)?

Should she tell him how, more often these days, she felt she was losing him all over again? That the void he'd once fallen into was now claiming their son again?

It could prove to be a long recap.

x . x .x . x . x . x . x . . x .x . x . x . x . x . x

_Loki dreamt. In his dream, he opened his eyes. A small feat that required more effort than it was due. Eyelids fluttered uselessly at first; sealed shut by grit and tears. The latter which caused him shame - that they fell so readily - even as his heart ached for their cause._

_Slowly, he drew feeling into an arm numbed by chill and bruised beyond reckoning, and fraction by tiny fraction he pulled his arm up towards his face; scrubbing at the grit until his eyelids opened at last. Struggling to find focus in the darkness, Loki stretched his fingers across his face, grimacing at the slick of blood and muck for which he could find no source. His mouth tasted of gravel, and he bit his tongue so that the coppery taste of blood would replace it and wash the dryness from his throat._

_Pressing his hand upon the cold jagged rock on which he was strewn, Loki pushed himself into a half-kneel and tentatively reached out like a blind man waving into the was nothing before him, nothing but absolute darkness and not even the light of a distant star to see by._

_For a moment he dropped his head into his hands and wondered how it could be that he was still alive. When he had released his hold on Gunthr he had plunged into a no-mans-land of deep space. By rights, it should have killed him. For all that he knew of the dark paths, a descent into darkness such as this was a pathway to madness. And never one he would expect to survive._

_Which was precisely the problem. He had taken that plunge knowing it would end him, and yet… Here he was still._

_With a grunt of effort, Loki sank back on his haunches, wincing at the pain that pulsed through his body as he did so. His magic was weak here. He could barely feel its hum within his veins. But with a flick of his wrists he made a quick yet elaborate flourish in the air before him, and produced a small spluttering globe that threw dim light into his grim surroundings._

_Stark, jagged rocks spread out around him as far as he could see. Nothing more, nothing less. He had traded one lump of space rock for a larger one._

_After evaluating his surroundings for several minutes, as still and silent as a deer sniffing the wind for threat, Loki chose a direction and began stepping carefully across the rugged plain. Stumbling sometimes, he made his way towards a distant peak, in search of a dark path that would lead him off this rock._

x . x .x . x . x . x . x . x . x .x . x . x . x . x . x

"I wish you would tell me what you are thinking, when you sit so strange and still." Frigga sat on the edge of her gilded chair, hands clasped tight on her lap. "We worry about you Loki, we all do. Your father has asked about -"

Loki's head shot up, his eyes fierce. Of all the topics Frigga had tried to broach in order to gain his attention, it was this that finally did the trick. "The Allfather sends you to report on me?"

With a start, Frigga leapt from her seat and stepped forward, raising her palms towards the energy shield. "No Loki! We only wish to help. If you would just tell me what troubles you…"

Loki held up one silencing finger and watched the words die from his mother's lips.

When her smile had faded and she stood still and expressionless before him, he gracefully unfolded himself from the floor and rose to his feet, his movements fluid - as if he hadn't been sitting cross-legged for hours upon a cold marble floor, lost within the horrors of his head.

"So I have a spy in my one-person camp." Loki shook his head in reproof as he gave an exaggerated sigh. "And _that_ is why you await my every word with bated breath?"

"Don't be foolish Loki, you know I -"

"No no! Let me." Loki gestured for silence once more, before stroking his thumb and forefinger thoughtfully against his chin. His frown smoothed out and his tight smile softened, shifting to one of understanding. Beguilingly so. "You only have my best interests at heart?"

"Yes, of course." Frigga murmured, her expression guarded. She knew her trickster son too well to be foiled by his sudden change in demeanor. "We've only ever had your best interests at heart."

Loki met his mother's steady gaze and his eyes chilled. Then, he began to pace.

"And you'd like to know what am I thinking while I sit here, day after idle day, twiddling my fingers at the whim of the Allfather?" Loki watched the Queen struggle to hide the unease she so clearly felt in his presence. Full of facade, he thought. Like mother, like son.

Except of course, he wasn't really her son.

Taking a moment to laugh in derision at himself, Loki continued. "Well, _one_ thing I've been thinking of late, is that endearing little memory you chose to bring to my attention during your last visit. If you recall, it was the one about the hunting trip, and the fawn?"

Loki waited for Frigga to nod in assertion before continuing. "I had forgotten all about that wee gem, to be quite honest. It was several hundred years ago, after all. But as you spoke - as you jogged my memory - it all came back to me."

Loki stopped pacing, and turned abruptly on his heel, throwing his arms out wide as a wolfish smile broke upon his face. "In _glorious_ detail."

Frigga rocked on her feet but held her ground, her face grim. No doubt sensing his version of the event wasn't _quite_ as endearing as her own, Loki mused to himself.

"Shall I pick up where you left off?"

Frigga paused, before forcing her lips into a tight, anxious smile. "Yes my son, please continue the story."

Holding his palm out towards the chair, Loki waited as the Queen resumed her seat. Neither pacing nor settling himself, he remained before her as a man given center stage before a captive audience.

"Well as we know, while the Allfather and I argued over the fate of the creature, Thor took matters into his own hands and slaughtered the animal." Loki's eyes sidled away from Frigga then, his mind swept up in the memory.

"Young and soft as I was, I wept. Wept that my brother had once again taken what should have been mine. As he had done so many times before. And would do so again."

"Loki…" Unable to find the words to make protest, Frigga's denial trailed away.

With a contemptuous smile, Loki continued, "The Allfather insisted that what Thor had done was right. A graceful deer could never be raised as a humble goat."

Loki's voice dropping to a murmur and he cast his gaze downwards. "That it wouldn't be fair, for either party."

For a moment, he drifted into thoughtful silence. The he raised glacial eyes to meet Frigga's own, and a sharp bitter smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Of course, little did I realise he was thinking of _me_ when he spoke with such experience. Except _I_ was the goat. Masquerading so _ineffectually_ as a deer."

"This is not true Loki! You must stop thinking this way! Your father never felt like that - "

"He is not my father!" Loki screamed, leaping forward until the energy field began to hum at his proximity. "He has renounced me of name and of kinship. I am naught but Loki _Laufeyson_ now."

Frigga passed a hand over her face and stifled a sob, as her son stood before her struggling for calm while madness danced in his eyes. "I cannot explain why he said that Loki, I'm so sorry.."

"Oh yes I know. He has a reason for everything, doesn't he? And all for the greater good. Tra-la-la." Loki danced a hand across the air in mimicry; a manic smile twitching at his lips.

"Now where do you play into this? You come here week after week, pretending to care. Pretending to love me, and for what? For what, _mother_?"

That final word flew from Loki's mouth like a vulgarity, and he ignored the tears that pooled in Frigga's eyes as he began once more to pace.

"No, you have always been our son! We loved you Loki. _We love you still!_ Why won't you see this?" The words Frigga had been searching for tore free at last, and her fine features contorted as a myriad of emotions struggled within her.

But Loki looked through her, unseeing; a wild animal grown tired of its cage. "You don't know me! You _never_ knew me!"

"Loki, please listen -"

Springing forward like a striking snake, Loki ignored the bolts of pain that ripped up his arms as his fists slammed into the energy shield. "Why do you come here? What do you hope to achieve? Do you think to kill me with kindness? Are you hoping I'll crack and tell you what grim fate my allies have in store for this realm? And for _you_, and all of your kin?"

Frigga's hands flung to her mouth to stifle a sob, her eyes wide in shock at the cruelty in his barbs.

Loki took pause then, his brows creasing. "That's what it is, isn't it? You come here masquerading as the loving mother of my memories, when you're as much a liar as I, and I as much a liar as you all!"

Unable to endure his seething hatred any longer, Frigga shrank back from the stranger she had thought to call her son. Fists clenched tight to stop her hands from shaking, her voice trembled as she finally worked it from her throat. "No Loki. I know there's still good in you. I want to help you find redemption and return you to me as the son I knew."

"Redemption?" He spat the word as a foul taste upon his tongue. "What redeemable quality could I _possibly_ have left?"

Without waiting for Frigga to answer, Loki continued to vent, too wound up in his own self-righteousness to care for what condolences she might offer. "All you seek is a way of making use of me. A prisoner must earn his keep to survive. Oh yes, _I know that tune well!_"

Something cracked within him then. Frigga could see it. Something raw and vulnerable. Something flayed and full of pain.

"For all the time you've been in here - for all you have done - I have believed in you." Frigga's words were slow and measured as she fought for calm. "I found you in that other place. I scryed, and I found you - before you invaded Midgard. You were in the company of another. I saw… I felt…"

Frigga stumbled on her words, thrown out by the wide manic smile that had begun to sneak back over Loki's face. "You weren't _you_, Loki. And you were trapped, you had no choice!"

Loki's laughter rang out then; rich and full of mockery. "Gullible woman!" He hissed. "You saw only what your fool eyes wanted you to see! I know the dark paths! I could have opened a door back into this universe as soon as I crashed upon the first space rock! No. I chose my path. Thanos offered me more than Odin ever would. Don't you see? I am _Laufey's_ son. And I care _nothing_ for you and yours!_ You are not my mother! You are _nothing_ to me!_"

His words had become a shriek of raw emotion and Frigga flinched as his features twisted in hate and torment; her resolve to stand by his side tested by the crushing weight of such rage.

Then the shield between them flared bright as the strength of Loki's anger drove dark energy against it. Again and again, he unleashed his fury against that impenetrable barrier. Faster and faster, the dark well of energy poured forth so that the shield remained a wall of blazing gold, blinding in its brilliance.

As it blazed, the hum of its woven charms changed in pitch and tone, growing louder and louder until the sound became a shrieking roar that drove Loki to his knees; hands clutched to ears as his body folded in upon itself, his own screams tearing free to join the fray.

x . x .x . x . x . x . x . . x .x . x . x . x . x . x

_Loki was unsure how long he'd been scaling jagged peaks and stumbling on shingle, but his confidence in finding a way off this rock was waning as fast as his feeble orb of light. His magic was too weak in this star-forsaken universe to draw upon a dark path. He could barely conjure the simplest of tricks._

_At times, the orb spluttered and plunged him into a darkness so vast and chilling, he would struggle in desperation to bind it; his threads of fractured magic pulled so taunt and thin they threatened to snap._

_Though not given easily to fright, this dead shell of a universe terrified Loki. This was a desolate place. A dead place. A place that played upon your worst thoughts and deepest fears, and stripped you to your barest core; leaving nothing but the horror of your own undoing._

_Still, he continued to make his way across the barren, rugged landscape, in search of a doorway through spacetime he knew he would never find. There was nothing else he could do._

_Before long, the tattered threads of his magic drained away and his light winked out. His small spluttering light. The one shining beacon in a darkness so bleak and all-encompassing, he was pushed to the fringes of despair just to know such darkness existed - and he within it._

_But for how much longer?_

_Overwhelmed by futility, Loki knew that if he had but one fleeting chance to make things right - to throw himself upon the Allfather's mercy, and Thor's forgiveness - he would do so in a heartbeat and weep for the sweet sound of their admonishments._

_But there would be no redemption. He had burnt his bridges and now he was lost in a dead universe. No one would know or care to help him now._

_Sinking to his knees, Loki vented his anguish across the bleak alien landscape. On and on until the echos of his cries threw themselves back at him in waves of varying pitches like a macabre symphony of suffering._

_A greater man - a warrior such as Thor - might feel shame at such release. But there was no one here to know. No one to hear this maelstrom of misery. In this cadaverous universe he was alone, and nothing but death awaited him._

x . x . x . x . x . x . x . x . x . x .x . x . x . x . x . x

When chaos had finally burnt itself out, the energy shield returned to its benevolent state and its shattering roar diminished to a barely-audible hum.

Loki lay curled upon the cold cell floor; head bowed and knees drawn towards his torso like a newborn babe. His throat felt raw, his body ached, and his head thumped as if he'd drunk a tavern's worth of mead. Gradually consciousness returned to him in fragments and the nightmares of sleep slowly receded. Though, the nightmare of awakening was almost worse.

As he pressed his palms against the marble to push himself onto his knees, Loki saw blue-black tendrils threaded beneath the skin of his knuckles. Dark magic indeed. In grim fascination, he watched the strange vein-like patterns slowly fade, until his skin was the colour of alabaster once more.

Then he looked beyond his cell, to the gilded chair that stood abandoned in the empty stone foyer, and he let out a deep breath. Of course he had driven her away. It was what he had intended to do. And as soon as he had arranged himself somewhere more comfortable than this floor, he would gloat in that satisfaction.

With his eyes still drawn to that empty chair, Loki slowly pulled himself to his feet. The excessive use of magic left him feeling as if he'd just come off worse in a fight with a bilgesnipe and he winced as he straightened, feeling his ligaments protest against such movement.

Gingerly he lowered himself onto his bed, exquisitely carved in Asgardian oak. The bedding soft and glorious. He had lain upon this very bed for more months than he cared to acknowledge within this cell, yet he only now noticed the finery he'd been given in his exile. A disquieting thought snuck into his head as he fingered the lush velvet bedspread in green so deep it was almost black. Gathering the bedspread around him, he crushed the velvet in his hands and breathed in its oh-so-familiar scent. Rosemary. His bedding had always carried this fragrance. Not lavender, to aid sleep, but rosemary. From Frigga's own herb garden, no less.

Rosemary for love. Rosemary for loyalty. Rosemary for remembrance.

His mother would often chant those words with an enigmatic smile, and in that moment Loki saw a vision of her laying this very bedspread over her rosemary bush, allowing the herb's fragrant essence to infuse into the fabric like a hidden message for his heart to find.

_Love. Loyalty. Remembrance._

Loki pressed his face into the fabric and breathed deep, remembering the heartbreak on Frigga's face as he screamed his final words - as he denied her as his mother.

If this was vindication - if this was vengeance - it was a dull, hollow feeling indeed.

* * *

**Foot note:** I'm sorry that chapter was so excruciatingly long. I did try to cut it down, but in doing so I only added more... It kind of took a turn of its own there. A big chunk was taken out, to be saved for a later chapter. It was kind of a pivotal scene that I didn't want to use so early... I have a reasonably clear idea of what I want to do with this story, but it does tend to take it's own path as I write it!

So what do you think? Would you like to see more of Loki's flashbacks (yes there are of course more, like it or not) or more/less of Loki being bitter and angry? I'm sorry Frigga wasn't stronger in this chapter - I do envision her being a pretty tough lady, but I wanted to portray how Loki's rock-bottom type behavior has got to her so deeply, it's kind of left her a bit floored. I'm not sure if I carried that off or not...? Any feedback is welcome!


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